The Traveling Confessional
by SiriousB1
Summary: Ever wonder where Wolfwood's traveling confessional came from? Here is my take on it. A songfic to Stephen Lynch's "Altar Boy" begins in Chapter 2. I have been asked to note that this story contains a pedophile; readers have been warned.
1. A Bar Story

The Traveling Confessional  
  
A Bar Story  
  
SLAM! "Pour another!"  
  
Wolfwood leaned back in his chair. The bar around him was full and a waitress hurried over to refill his drink. It was a clear night; the stars where out, the five moons were clearly visible and every bar-hopper in town was out, ready to party all night long.  
  
"Aw, hell," the priest laughed, lighting up a cigarette, "just leave the bottle here!"  
  
The woman rolled her eyes and set the bottle on Jack on the table. He immediately grabbed it and took a gulp, ignoring the fact that his glass was full.  
  
"Wanna' share a little there, buddy?" came the whiney voice of Vash. Wolfwood looked over the bottle to see his friend wrapping a red and green-stripped tie around his head. This was a good sign. It meant that he wanted to get drunk.   
  
"Of course!" he laughed again as he poured his friend a glass. "Where are the insurance girls? Wouldn't they like a shot?"  
  
"I doubt it," said Vash. "Meryl was about ready to kill me last time I got drunk. If we dragged her or Millie into the bottle, I'd never hear the end of it!"  
  
They laughed and drunk some more. It wasn't until around midnight that the crowed thinned, their voices thickened and the conversation got a little more interesting...  
  
***  
  
"You know," Wolfwood said, pointing at Vash and leaning into the table, "it isn't easy being a traveling priest."  
  
"Really?" replied Vash, whose gaze was following a lazy fly.  
  
"Oh no, it can get complicated." Wolfwood slammed his hand down on the table. "More beer!"  
  
"Haven't you two had enough?" scolded the barmaid.  
  
"How many have we had?" Vash asked.  
  
"Twelve, sir."  
  
"Well," said Wolfwood, thoughtfully, "we said we'd drink twenty, right? How many more does that leave us?"  
  
Vash held up nine fingers. "This many!"  
  
The waitress rolled her eyes once more and set down another two bottles. "I think you two need to go back to grammar school."  
  
Wolfwood looked confused. "Why would we need to go to grammar school, if you want us to learn how to count?"  
  
Both men started laughing as the woman walked away, shaking her head. They each poured a glass (magically not spilling a drop) and toasted each other.  
  
Wolfwood smacked his lips together and scratched his head. "What was I talking about?"  
  
Vash thought for a moment, and then guessed, "Converting to Buddhism?'  
  
"Oh, right! Traveling priesthood...nope, it ain't easy, no sir. You gotta' carry all your own stuff in your own little bad. And, you gotta' come up with your own ideas to figure out how people will want to talk to you about their private lives outside the church. Nope, not many people want to do that to a stranger."  
  
Vash tightened his make-shift headband and asked, "Is that what your mini confessional is for?"  
  
Wolfwood opened the bad that was sitting on the floor and took out what appeared to be a miniature church with a big hold in the bottom. He placed it on the table and lit up another fag.  
  
"You know, that's a good example. People don't want to pretend that they're in a church, so I guess you gotta' bring it to them."  
  
Wile sipping at his drink, Vash poked at the cross atop the mini church and observed it. "How did you come up with this thing, anyway?"  
  
"Funny you should ask, I was just thinking about that." The priest blew a puff of smoke and sighed. "It's all because of a kid named Mel."  
  
"Mel? Isn't that a girl's name?"  
  
Wolfwood shrugged. "That's just what I called him. His real name was..."  
  
"Melvin?" Vash guessed.  
  
"No, no, it was Brian." Vash got a really confused look on his face and watched his friend drink. Wolfwood continued, "But, seriously, this kid was something kinda' special. He was an orphan who wandered into our church some time ago. When his birthday rolled around, he said the only thing he ever wanted to do was to become an altar boy at the church. Let me tell you all about it..." 


	2. The Altar Boy

A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed ^_^. I just wanted to warn all who decided to continue reading...I'm a twisted girl, so don't read if you aren't open to opinions. Oh yeah, and sorry that these chapters are short. I figure I don't want to waste your time with my crap fanfiction, so I spread it out into short ones.  
  
The Traveling Confessional  
  
The Altar Boy  
  
Like I said, it was a while ago when that kid came to us. He must have become an altar boy, what, maybe three years ago? Yeah, that sounds about right. Anyway, this was one special kid. He was the best cleaner, had a beautiful soprano voice (what can I say, he was 10-years-old!) and he always said his prayers. All the priests in that damned church wanted him to be there when it was their turn for mass. I got lucky. He was my altar boy.  
  
[Deep in prayer, my cross to brave  
  
I kneel upon the floor  
  
Temptations of a Catholic Priest  
  
Aren't easy to ignore.]  
  
Oh, yeah, there were more of them. I think each of us were assigned five and there were many more in training. But none of them were as good as this kid was. No, no, he had all the right things going for him. He was kind, polite and he knew his place. He did what he was told and never spoke out of turn. Such a good altar boy.  
  
[But I cannot control myself  
  
It rips my soul apart]  
  
So, anyway, this kid, Brian. Well, one night I found him wandering the halls, right? Well, here I am thinking, "What the hell is this kid doing out of bed this late at night? He's the best of my students, the Chief Reverend's favorite and he's gonna' blow all of it away by being up after curfew!?"  
  
"Hey, Brian!" I said, in a loud enough whisper that he could hear me, but soft enough as to not wake everyone up.  
  
Well, he whips around and stares at me. He was holding a candlestick in one hand and a woven bag in the other. The candle, faint as it was, showed the fear in his sparkling little gray eyes. I could practically see the sweat drip down his forehead and I could tell he was afraid.  
  
  
  
"Please, Father," he said, running to my side, "don't tell anyone! I swear I wasn't doing anything wrong!"  
  
"But what were you doing, dear child?" I asked him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Why are you out here so late at night, when you should be resting your weary eyes?"  
  
  
  
And that kid, bless him, showed me the food in that bag. That's right; he was sneaking food out to the animals in the barn next to the church because they never got enough. When I asked him where he had gotten the food, he told met hat he had saved it from his own meals so he wouldn't have to bother the cooks and risk acting suspicious.  
  
  
  
How could I turn in a kid with such a noble cause? I helped him.  
  
[For one small sheep among my flock  
  
Has stole the shepherd's heart.]  
  
For the next three months I saved my food from my meals and, every other night, little Brian and I would sneak out of the church to feed the animals. It was one night, as he held out a handful of bacon to a pig (how ironic) that I realized just how fine his dark brown hair and freckled cheeks were.  
  
[Altar boy, Altar boy,  
  
Confess your sins to me.  
  
You will find the grace of God  
  
Inside my rectory.]  
  
It was on the first night of October that we got caught. I told the Reverend that we were out for a noble cause, but I couldn't say what. You see, it was forbidden to visit the farm next door. The Reverend called it a "sinful place." This was, however, understandable based on the numerous times we saw couples "rolling in the hay." To make a long story short, dear Brian was removed from my group of altar boys and given, instead, to Father Jared, my least favorite person.  
  
Oh, he was a strange one, that Jared! Always weary of his altar boys. Never let near other priests, oh no! I guess he was afraid we might molest the little squirts. HA! Yeah right!  
  
[At Sunday mass or Bible class  
  
I catch him in my view.  
  
So I close my eyes, and there he lies  
  
Spread eagle on the pew.]  
  
A few months came and went, all the while Father Jared getting weirder and weirder. I'd swear he was a molester himself! Anyway, the only time I was able to see dear little Mel, I mean, Brian, was passing in the halls or during meal times.  
  
Ah, little Brian. I always remembered that his favorite of the animals we had fed was a beautiful horse that he had named George. He had gorgeous white fur and his tail whipped out behind him like a silken veil. And his mane was a magnificent gray, much like Brian's eyes. He would always give George some extra bread. You know how kids are, always wanting a pet!  
  
Well, Christmas was coming. I decided to give that little altar boy a gift that he would never forget.   
  
A/N: Okay, here we are. At the end. Just telling you guys what's to come: another chapter of the songfic, and then the conclusion. Fun fun fun. 


	3. Christmas at Midnight

The Traveling Confessional  
  
Christmas at Midnight  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
[And when I see him in that frock  
  
My conscience goes awry  
  
I'll give him some communion wine  
  
That's spiked with Spanish Fly]  
  
Christmas day rolled around and that church was packed. Lucky me; it was my turn to deliver Mass. It all went pretty well…until I looked over to see who was playing the pipe organ.  
  
  
  
Yep, you guessed it. It was dear little Brian. My hands started to quiver and I think I broke out into a sweat. I was so proud of my little, former altar boy! Playing the songs flawlessly, he was.   
  
  
  
I barely made it through Mass. I had to talk to Brian. To congratulate him. *sigh* Sweet Brian…  
  
  
  
[Altar boy, Altar boy  
  
Is it gonna' be Heaven or Hell?  
  
You can play my organ all night long  
  
If you promise not to tell]  
  
But talking to him wasn't going to be easy. God no; not with Jared running around! He wouldn't let the boys out of his sight, let alone allow one of the other priests talk to them. I could try holding Brian back after mass, pretending that I was just a happy church-goer who was glad to see youths being taught at the church.  
  
Oh, dammit, Jared would know! Even if I put on a disguise, he would know it was me!   
  
  
  
That bastard…you should have met the guy! Fucking slime ball…  
  
[Our Father, who art in Heaven  
  
Hallowed be thy name  
  
I could dress him up like the Pope and then I'd…  
  
Oh, dear God, the shame!]  
  
Oh, alas! What to do? I couldn't talk to Brian, couldn't make eye contact with him in the halls…I couldn't even give him his Christmas present! All because of that stupid, fat, sandwich-making Jared!  
  
And that, my friends, was when the idea hit me. Sandwiches; it was brilliant. I don't think I told you this, but Jared also helped out in the kitchens. Yep, he was always down there making low-fat sandwiches for his altar boys lunches. He didn't want them getting fat like him!  
  
So I developed a plan. I would sneak into the kitchens that afternoon and put a note in Brian's sandwich (Jared labeled the plates, so I would know which one was his). The note would tell Brian to go outside by the barn at midnight and get a surprise. Oh, this was going to be fun!  
  
[No, no, lead us not into temptation  
  
Deliver us from sin  
  
We can pretend that he was Jesus Christ  
  
And I was Mary Magdalene]  
  
Midnight. The time had arrived.  
  
I sat on a haystack outside the barn, biting my fingernails. I hoped that the note hadn't been intercepted. I didn't know if Jared inspected the sandwiches after he made them; I hoped not.  
  
All I wanted to do was see Brian again; my little Mel…er, Brian! I just wanted to stroke his brown hair and gaze into his captivating eyes. Just to hold his hand and touch his cheek and make him happy. I would have given him anything and everything had he asked me too. But, what I really wanted was to…  
  
[Altar boy, Altar boy  
  
Confess your sins to me  
  
You will find the grace of God  
  
Inside my rectory]  
  
I had to stop in mid-thought, because, low and behold, there he was! Dear little Brian, walking towards me and the barn, just as told to. He held his lantern up as he approached, sending candlelight across the snow. And then he saw me and George.  
  
"Merry Christmas, little one," I said to him.  
  
For half and hour we road George. We went around the barn, into the forest, back to the barn…never close enough to the church so anyone peeking out could see us. Brian was happy for a while, but, if I remember right, he got a little nervous after a while. I'm not sure why. I mean, George didn't buck and I was sitting behind Brian, holding the reins in front of him, making sure he wouldn't fall off. Hmm…  
  
[Altar boy, Altar boy  
  
Confess your sins to me  
  
You will find the grace of God  
  
Inside my rectory]  
  
After that, I walked him back to the church. He was about to go to his chambers, but I told him to stay with me a while longer.  
  
For some reason, this frightened him. Why, I practically had to twist his arm to get him to stay out in the snow! He was bending and turning every which way so much that, at one point, he fell on the ground! I had to put my hand over his mouth to stop him from screaming!  
  
Well, anyway, when he fell, he knocked over my legs and sent us both sprawling onto the snow. I remember landing on top of him and finally having my way with the boy.  
  
The Lord knows it changed him forever. Rarely spoke to me again and never attempted to make eye contact. It was like he was ashamed to have loved me.  
  
Well, to make a long story short, I never saw dear little Brian again.  
  
[De profundis clamo ad te domine domine…]  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*pretty*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N: Right…so, conclusion is coming up…yeah… 


	4. Tears, Beer and Dirty Looks

The Traveling Confessional  
  
Tears, Beer and Dirty Looks  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Wolfwood took a huge gulp of his twentieth beer. He looked across the tablet o find, not only Vash, but also the barmaid and the bartender sucking up the last of his story. It had been his belief that it was a good, meaningful story, but some of his audience's reactions said otherwise.  
  
"That's sick," muttered the barmaid. "Absolutely grotesque."  
  
"That's the last time I let priests in my bar," shuddered the bartender.  
  
And then there was Vash…  
  
With tears flowing form his eyes, he whispered, "That…was…beautiful!"  
  
Wolfwood slammed his mug onto the table for a final time and lit up his thirteenth cigarette that night. "It was, wasn't it? But it isn't over! I still have to tell you the conclusion."  
  
Vash snapped to attention.  
  
"Well, about a month after that Christmas, I was called into the Reverend's office. He looked a little concerned for some reason, but I was never sure why. Well, he said that I was no longer to be a priest of that church. He told me that some of the employees had been complaining, though he didn't say who or why.  
  
"As I was packing that night, I came across the crucifix that Brian had found and given to me one night in the barn. It was terrible to part with him, especially when I wasn't allowed to say goodbye. So, I devised a plan to keep his memory with me forever: a traveling confessional. It would be shaped like a church, with Brian's little cross at the top…and so it is.  
  
"Now, if you'd excuse me," Wolfwood said, standing, "I think it's time I got some sleep. We've got that shooting contest tomorrow."  
  
"Oh, right!" Vash exclaimed. He jumped up, only to fall back down again. "Ahe…" he laughed. After several tries, he managed to get on his feet and stay there.  
  
As they clambered up the stairs of the bar to their rooms above, they bid each other good night.  
  
"G'night Nick," murmured Vash, sleepily.  
  
"Night Brian…I mean, Vash," replied Wolfwood, an odd sort of smile playing on his lips.  
  
"Whatcha' smilin' for?" his friend asked.  
  
"Oh," the priest said mischievously, "no reason. Hey, do you mind if I spend the night in your room? I'm…um…I'm, ah…I'm afraid of the dark."  
  
Vash shrugged and said, "Alright, but just tonight."  
  
"Tonight is all I need," muttered Wolfwood under his breath. He followed Vash into his room and slowly shut the door.  
  
The End   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N: Ah, yes, so the story concludes shortly, yet sweetly. Well, drunkenly, actually, but same difference. Heh…I just had to put a shounen-ai at the end (so typical of me. ^_^) Hope y'all liked it! Just for kicks, if anyone wants to review/e-mail me w/ their ideas on how Wolfwood got the traveling confessional, I'm all ears. I want to see if I'm the only sick freak out there… 


End file.
